


Innocence

by Squid_Ink



Series: The Fiery Templar and the Fearless Assassin [15]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alternate Universe, Charles Dorian lives, F/M, and fluffy, but lots of happy, lots of cute, no parents die, so much fluffy!, some sad, this is a hug fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 07:53:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8393386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squid_Ink/pseuds/Squid_Ink
Summary: Charles survived the trip to the palace, and once more Arno and Élise meet while their fathers discuss secret things.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mariyam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariyam/gifts).



Arno missed her already: he missed her giggle, her bright blue-green eyes, the cascading red curls, the way she had _bye Arno!_ when his father had come back from the meeting. He missed her smile most of all. Arno hoped he'd get to see her again. He sighed, knowing that may never be the case, and he set the little tin soldier down on top of the box his father had brought. Papa had told him not to touch it, and he wasn't but it did make an excellent vantage point for his soldiers.

"Arno." Charles walked in pausing to see what his son had crafted, only to sigh in exasperation. "Arno, I told you not to play with this box. It's very important." Charles said, taking the tin soldiers from the box.

"But, Papa," Arno protested, "it's their vantage point! They need to be up high so they can see the battle!"

"Yes," Charles agreed as he set the soldiers down on the table. "But surely you can find another vantage point for your army, Grand Général, hmm?"

Arno huffed, disappointed that he was being forced to sacrifice the best vantage point. "I suppose I could've used some books," he mumbled. His father chuckled, placing a hand on his head.

"That's better, but you'll have to save your battle for later, we have to go out again," Charles said, digging into his pocket and pulling out his watch. "If we don't leave now we'll be late."

"Why do I have come? I don't wanna go," Arno protested, as his father walked away. He trotted to keep up with his father's longer strides. He reached the door and accepted the horrid green coat the butler held out for him.

"Because Arno," Charles sighed, "Madame Fleur is unable to watch you tonight, and I'm not about to leave you, a highly curious boy, alone in this large house by himself."

"But I can be left alone at the king's palace, which is bigger," Arno quipped. His father glared at him. "Sorry Papa," Arno mumbled, rubbing the left side of his nose.

"I expect you to be a good boy tonight, we're going to my gentlemen's club," Charles said, shrugging into his coat. Arno watched as he checked the gauntlet at his wrist; his father always wore it whenever they went out. Arno asked about it once but didn't get a clear answer. "Come Arno," Charles said, holding out his hand. Arno grasped his father's hand, smiling at the feeling of his father's warm large hand wrapped around his small one. The butler opened the door and they headed off into the gloaming.

About fifteen minutes later, they came to a door. It was an unassuming door, run-down and worn-out by the looks of it. It had a metal sliding peephole just wide enough for a pair of eyes. Arno looked around the dingy ally they stood in, wandering why his father's gentlemen's club meet in a place of such squalor. The grate slid back with a raspy clank. "The Aquila sees all in the sky," the man behind the door said.

"For the eye of La'Ahad is the brightest in the night," Charles answered. Arno frowned, unsure what the riddle meant, but his father had said the correct answer, for the grate slammed shut again and Arno could hear the sound of a lock being open.

"The Eyrie welcomes you, brother," the man said. Arno stared up at him, for he was dressed like the butcher in the market. "Your eaglet?" the man asked.

"He'll be good Jean," Charles said as he stepped in and tugged Arno along. "Won't you Arno?"

"Of course, Papa," Arno agreed, though his head swiveled about trying to take everything in. The interior was what he'd expect of a gentlemen's club: a merry fire burning in the fireplace, plush chairs, end-tables between them, paintings of important people that have long been dead, bookshelves, and a chess set in the center of the chairs. Arno even spied some hallways leading to other parts of the building. A man was standing by the fire, his maroon cloak dark against the shadows though the teal of his outfit stood out starkly against the more somber colors.

"Took ya long enough, pisspot," the man said.

"Pierre, please," Charles sighed, "not in front of my son."

"You brought him?" Bellec growled, crossing the room in three strides. Arno shrank against his father, finding Bellec intimidating, he rubbed his nose nervously as his tongue darted out to moisten his lips. "Why?"

"Fleur was indisposed this evening," Charles said. "It'll be alright Pierre, Arno promised me he'll be a good boy, right?"

"Right, Papa," Arno agreed, eyeing Bellec uneasily.

"Bad enough we're hosting some Templars. One of them even brought their girl." Bellec rolled his eyes. "Someone ought to keep the little brat tied up! She's already poked her nose into more places than Mirabeau likes."

"I'm sure it'll be fine, Pierre," Charles said as he led Arno to a chair. Arno hopped into the plush seat, swinging his legs idly. He wouldn't need to go exploring beyond this room, there was already enough stuff to keep his small mind occupied. "I want you to stay here Arno. Don't go leaving this room understand?"

"Yes, Papa," Arno said, and held out his hands. Charles chuckled, smiling as he dug out his pocket watch. He popped it open.

"I'll be back when this hand makes it way to the top twice," Charles said, pointing to the big one. Arno sighed, realizing that he was going to be here for a rather long time. "It'll pass by quickly, I assure you."

"Unlikely if Mirabeau and de la Serre have their fucking way," Bellec grumbled. "We'll be here all night discussing how the king should wipe his goddamn fucking arse."

"Language, Pierre, please," Charles sighed, placing the watch in Arno's hand. "Stay here Arno. No exploring."

"Yes, Papa," Arno sighed, a little smile tugging at his lips. Charles returned it and ruffled Arno's hair before following Bellec down a hall and out of sight. Arno groaned, slumping in the chair, already bored. He missed Élise, wishing she was here to play with him. Maybe they could have a game of chess or pull the books down from the shelves to see what they contained. Arno sighed, slipping the watch into his pocket and hopped off the chair. He walked around, hand trailing along the backs of the chairs, eyes roaming over the calligraphic titles on the spines of the books. He came to a hallway, dark and ominous in appearance. Swallowing, Arno hopped to the other side, feeling a tightness ease in his chest. A giggle reached his ears and a slim hand grabbed his wrist, tugging him into the darkness. He didn't have time to scream in fright as his back slammed up against the wall of the other side, a finger against his lips. His eyes grew wide at the familiar sight of Élise.

"Ah," she said in a teasing whisper, "did I scare you?" Arno nodded mutely. "I'm sorry."

"Wh-…" Arno swallowed. "What are you doing here, Élise?" Arno asked. "Are you here with your father too?"

"My mother _and_ father this time," Élise said proudly. Arno blinked, surprised that she had a mother. "Arno?"

"Your mother… didn't go away?" Arno asked, hesitant. Élise wrinkled her nose cutely.

"No, why would she be?" Élise asked. Arno stayed quiet, looking at his feet, he rubbed his nose. "Is your mother dead?"

"Mmhmm." Arno nodded, looking away. "Papa says she went away when I was very little. I don't remember her." Arno looked up at Élise who pouted, clearly upset about his admission. She grabbed his hand and headed deeper into the dark hallway. "Élise! Where are we going?"

"To the adults silly! Don't you wanna see what they're talking about?" Élise asked, grinning at Arno in the darkness. Arno came to a halt, tugging Élise to a stop. "Arno?"

"We should head back," Arno said. His thoughts kept drifting to his mother, wondering why she left without him.

"Why?"

"I promised my father I'd stay put," Arno said. He didn't want another lecture like he got after getting home from the palace. "We can play chess or read some of those books." He gave Élise a little smile. The girl chewed her rosebud lip.

"Just a bit further," she whined. "Then we go back, I promise." She held out her hand, and Arno stared at it before glancing over his shoulder to see the glow of the fire. He grabbed her hand, her smile radiating mischievous joy.

They walked a few more feet before Arno yanked Élise to a stop. "Shh," he hissed, when she began to protest. The shadow before them slowly materialized into a man, with iron grey hair pulled back into a tail, and he wore a dark teal coat, a silver pin on the left breast. Arno squinted at him in the darkness, a bright red aura materializing around the stranger's edges. He swallowed, fear coiling in his gut. "Élise…"

"Thomas!" Élise chirped, drawing the man's attention to them. Élise took a few steps towards him but Arno tugged her back. "Arno, don't be such a baby. That's François-Thomas, my father's lieutenant, he's really nice," Élise said.

"I-I-I don't know," Arno said, tugging on Élise's hand. "Let's go back… he's scary… really scary."

"Élise?" Germain asked, arching a brow.

"Bye Thomas," Élise said, waving to Germain in the darkness as Arno tugged her back towards the room with the chess set.

They reached the room, the fire still burning away merrily. Arno couldn't look at Élise as he walked around the chairs, one hand in his pocket, a death grip on his father's watch. "Arno, what was that about?" Élise asked. "Thomas wasn't going to hurt you, he's my father's lieutenant. He's really nice, a bit odd, but nice."

Arno gave Élise a sad look before huffing. He didn't know how to explain it to her, that he saw things other people couldn't. That if he squinted at her, she had a golden aura about her, just like his father. He didn't want her to think he was weird. "I don't want to talk about it, I just… got a sense he was… bad," Arno said.

"Well, he's not!" Élise hissed. "Thomas is super nice, and you should apologize to him!"

"Okay," Arno mumbled. He glanced at her then at the chess set. "Do you know how to play chess?" he asked. Élise glanced at the chessboard and gave a little nod. The two children walked over to the board, sat down and began to play. The game lasted about twenty minutes, before Élise slid her knight in front of Arno's king.

"Checkmate," she chirped, a grin on her lips. "You're… not that good."

Arno bowed his head, blushing. "I… I don't play much chess. Papa… is busy a lot with his gentlemen's club." Élise snickered. "What?" Arno asked, bringing his head up. "What's so funny?"

"Do you _honestly_ believe your father is a member of a gentlemen's club? That this," she waved her hand at their surroundings, "is a building that hosts a gentlemen's club?"

Arno stared at her, unsure what she's getting at. "Yeah," he said, slowly with a nod. "What else _would_ my father being doing?"

"You really don't know do you?" she asked, her voice soft, as if she was shocked he didn't know what was common knowledge to her. Arno frowned, getting annoyed with this guessing game.

"No, I don't Élise," Arno said, "so tell me? _What_ don't I know?"

"My father… your father… they aren't apart of a gentlemen's club," Élise said, licking her lips. "They are a part of these… secret orders. My father is the Grand Master of the Knights Templar."

"The Knights Templar? Like the soldiers from the Crusades?" Arno asked. He heard about them, but also that they were disbanded by the Church centuries ago. Élise nodded. "But… the Church disbanded them…"

"The Templars just went underground," Élise said, pausing when she saw Arno's confused look. "They became more secretive. Anyway," she said, rushing pass that part, "your father is a part of the enemy order… the Assassins."

"My papa isn't a bad person" Arno protested. "He's not… an… an Assassin!"

"Does he have a special thing on his wrist that he _always_ wears?"

Arno paused thinking back to his father's gauntlet. "His gauntlet? He said my grandfather gave it to him," Arno pulled out his watch, "just like this watch, see?" he said showing it to Élise. She scooted over to him.

"That symbol on the watch," Élise said, tracing it with a slim finger. "My father says that the symbol of the Assassins." Élise looked at Arno, and preened a little. "He also says that when I grow up, I'll be the Grand Master, just like him."

Arno sighed, tracing the symbol. The secrets his father kept, the late nights, the meetings he wasn't allowed to attend, the special box his father brought home. It all made sense now. "I guess that means when I grow up I'll be an assassin, like my father, huh? We'll be enemies," Arno looked at her, "won't we?"

Élise looked at the fire, glanced at the doors before hugging Arno. "Only if you let them make us enemies. I don't think you're a bad person Arno. You're nice. I… I don't want us to grow up to be enemies," she said, looking at him earnestly.

"Me neither. I want us to be friends, forever."

"Yes," Élise agreed, nodding, "friends forever. The Templars and Assassins really want to make the world a better place for everyone. My mother says that if both sides work together we can achieve that dream. Maybe it has to start with us?"

Arno grinned. "Yes, with us." He leaned in forward and quickly nuzzled his nose against hers. Élise blushed in surprised, a wide grin spreading on her lips. Arno bowed his head, embarrassed. Élise chewed her lip, glancing about nervously before she pressed a quick kiss to Arno's cheek. They blushed. Arno's hand going to his cheek and Élise scooting away.

"So… why don't I show you some m-moves for chess…" Élise said, grabbing one of the queen pieces.

"Yeah, okay," Arno agreed, snapping out of his daze. Élise gave him a few lessons and they resumed their game of chess. Arno lost again, and got more tips, before another game, which he lost. Still, they continued to whittle away the minutes until the adults came back, passing the game with small talk of their home lives. Arno said a few phrases in German much to Élise's delight, and she said some things in English for him. They grew bored of chess soon and began to look through the books before that grew dull. In the end, they converted the chess pieces into makeshift soldiers, setting up a battle in front of the fire place.

The two children look up when they heard voices and footsteps. Arno pulled out his watch and gave a little smile, the big hand had made two loops around the face, just like his father said. "My papa will be back soon," Arno said, closing the watch in a ritualistic manner. "I'll have to go home then."

"Aww," Élise said, sitting up. "That's not fair. When will we see each other again?"

Arno shrugged. "Dunno, but I'm sure I don't have to leave yet."

"I'm telling you Charles, Mirabeau is a fucking arse! He cares more about his politics than about the Brotherhood!'

"Pierre, please. Mirabeau is Mentor and—"

"If you say he trusts François de la Serre, then maybe you are no better than a traitor!" Bellec said, stomping into the room. Arno and Élise jumped, Arno instinctively grabbing Élise's hand as the two adults came into the room.

"Ah, Arno," Charles said, smiling at his son. "Who's your new friend?"

"Éli—"

"Arno get away from her," Bellec snarled, marching up to the two children. "She's the little Templar brat!"

"But she's my friend!" Arno protested as Bellec yanked him and Élise apart.

"Assassins don't befriend Templars," Bellec snarled, and flicked his wrist blade out, the fire glinting off the Damascus steel, illuminating the whorls in the metal. Élise gasped, eyes growing wide as she was confronted by the blade. The little girl whimpered.

Arno yanked his arm free from Bellec's grip and ran to his father, tears threatening to spill over. Charles swore, grabbing Bellec's wrist and angling the blade away from Élise's neck.

"Damn you, Pierre. She's a mere child!" Charles hissed as more people filed into the room.

"Mama!" Élise cried, spotting her mother and running to her.

"She's a damn Templar, Charles! She was getting cozy with your boy and—"

"She's _still a child!_ " Charles snarled.

"Good heavens, what's going on here?" François de la Serre asked, as his daughter embraced her mother's skirts. His eyes fell on Bellec's wrist blade. "Were you threatening my daughter?" François asked, his voice icy. Arno swallowed, inching closer to his father.

"No," Charles growled, eyeing Bellec, "he wasn't. _Were you_ Pierre?"

Arno watched as Bellec's face went several shades of purple and red, before going white again. He withdrew his wrist blade, relaxing. "No," he finally said, "I wasn't."

"We were just playing Mama," Élise said, looking up at her mother. "He's nice too, I like him."

"Charles what is going on?" Mirabeau asked, coming from the other hallway, Arno spotted the man they met earlier. The one Élise said was her father's lieutenant. Mirabeau looked between the parties involved, noting the scowl on the faces of the two fathers and Bellec. "Pierre, did you _threaten_ the daughter of François de la Serre?"

"We were just playing!" Élise piped up, indignant. "He didn't have to pull his stupid hidden blade on me. I wasn't hurting anyone!"

"Élise," Julie chided gently.

"You _threatened_ her!" Mirabeau sputtered.

"I stopped him, Mentor," Charles said, stepping in. "Arno and Élise were indeed just playing. Pierre overreacted. He won't do that again, will you Pierre?"

"I don't need a lecture from you pisspot," Bellec growled. "That girl is dangerous, I tell you!"

"No she isn't!" Arno protested, stepping a bit out of his father's shadow. He glanced at the adults, swallowing and wishing he hadn't spoken up.

"She's not?" Bellec growled, looking at Arno. The boy swallowed, rubbing the side of his nose. "She's a Templar like the rest of them."

"No, she's not! She's nice, and my friend! We were just playing!" Arno protested.

"We should just let them play," Julie agreed, "they are just children."

"I'm not letting Arno play with your daughter!" Bellec growled.

"Last time I checked," Charles said tightly, "you aren't his father. _I am_ , and I see nothing wrong with letting the children play." Bellec opened his mouth several times, sputtering for an answer that never came.

"Besides," Arno piped up again, "Élise isn't the bad one." Arno glanced at her then over his shoulder to the man that stood apart from the crowd. In the firelight Arno noted that he had two different colored eyes. "He's the bad one," he said, pointing Germain out.

"Me?" Germain gasped, a hand covering his heart. François sputtered.

"Thomas has been my friend and lieutenant for years! Since we were boys, I trust him with my life," François looked at Arno. "What proof do you have boy?"

Arno swallowed, hung his head and drifted back behind his father, never taking his eyes off of Germain. He clung to the tails of his father's coat. "Arno?" Charles asked, his voice soft and gentle.

"I… I… he's red," Arno whispered, and rubbed his forehead against Charles' leg. "He's red, Papa. Red means bad, because it makes me feel sick."

"Dorian, what is the boy talking about?" François asked, while the three assassins present exchanged baffled glances.

"His vision is that developed," Bellec glanced at Arno then at Charles, "at his age already? Charles why didn't you tell us?"

"Charles, is the boy gifted?" Mirabeau asked. Arno glanced up at the adults, then to Élise who gave him another encouraging smile. He looked up when he felt his father's hand on his head. Arno caught a glimpsed of Germain once more and let out a soft whimper.

"Mentor, we'll discuss this later if you please," Charles said, "it's getting late. I need to get home and put Arno to bed."

Mirabeau sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Yes, yes, of course you're right Charles. We'll discuss this later."

"Come Arno, say good night to your friend," Charles said. Arno glanced up at his father and gave a little nod before peeking out and glancing at Élise.

"Bye Élise," Arno said, giving her a small wave. He wanted to say _see you tomorrow_ but he wasn't sure if he'll ever see her again. He turned to go, following his father when he heard Élise give a little squeak. He watched as she tore away from her mother, running up to him and hugging him. She nuzzled his cheek to guise the chaste pressing of her lips against his cheek.

"Bye Arno," she whispered into his ear before letting go. Arno felt his cheeks heat as he glanced up at his father. Charles merely smiled.

"Come Arno," he said, holding out his hand. Arno glanced back at Élise, who had rejoined her parents and gave her a little wave.

* * *

Arno shivered. The night was cold, the stars like icy diamonds hung over head, and the streets were illuminated by the half-moon. "I'm sure Jacqueline has a fire in your room all made up for you Arno," Charles said.

"When can I see Élise again?" Arno asked. He didn't care if there wasn't a fire in his room he just wanted to see Élise again.

"I don't know."

"Will you talk to her father?" Arno asked.

"I'll see what I can do," Charles said.

"That means no," Arno mumbled, dejected. Charles sighed, praying for patience.

"No, it means that I'll see if I can, he's a more important noble than I am, I may not be able to talk to him," Charles said as they rounded the corner to their house. Charles pulled Arno to a halt. Arno glanced at his father then at the dark street beyond. He could sense the profound wrongness of everything.

"Papa?" Arno asked softly as his father drew his sword. The shadow moved and a man stepped into the soft moonlight. Arno guessed he was a little older than his father, but had a scar over his right eye. Arno noted that he was holding the box he had been using earlier as a vantage point.

"Stay behind me Arno," Charles said, "and when I tell you to run, you run, understand?"

"Run to where?"

"It doesn't matter, just run and hide. I'll come find you."

"But Papa… I'm scared…" Arno muttered softly, swallowing a bit. He rubbed his nose again and pressed himself closer to his father. Charles pried Arno away and gave him a little shove. Arno took a step and stumbled, landing on his rump. "Papa…"

"Give me the box," Charles said, "and I'll spare you."

"No," the stranger said, drawing his two blades. Arno noted that they were a dagger and a sword.

"Arno, run!" Charles barked. Arno whimpered, scrambling to his feet, the cobblestones cold against his palms. He ran, skidding around the corner as he heard the clash of blades. He ducked, pressing himself against the shadows. The metal clanged in the still winter air. Arno never saw his father fight before and it was all rather frightening to him. Yet, silently he knew that his father would chase away the scary stranger, for his father was the strongest and bravest man ever to live.

The stranger was quick though. Arno noticed that the stranger moved almost like his father, and every now and then a flash of a blade would appear from his sleeve. Yet the stranger had a grace that his father lacked, a way of moving that only true battle could forge. "Come on, Papa! Beat him, beat him!" Arno whispered, hoping his little prayers reached his father.

The stranger lashed out, release the hidden blade. Charles leaned back to avoid it, but the stranger brought his other blade across, cutting Charles from hip to rib. " _Papa!_ " Arno screamed.

The strange paused, only to dance away from Charles' blade at the last second. Charles didn't spare a glance but shouted, "Run Arno!" before continuing to press the attack. Arno stood in the street to terrified to move. The stranger drew a pistol, leveled it at him, the ratchet of the dogshead broke the stillness. "No!" Charles scream, deflecting the stranger's arm overhead just as the gun went off. Arno yelped, covering his ears before turning his back on the battle and running.

Arno ran down the street, taking lefts and rights. "Élise!" he shouted, hoping she'd hear hm. He had no idea where her house was, but he guessed he she lived in the fancier part of Versailles. "Élise! Élise!" he glanced at the doors, but nothing seemed familiar. He had no idea where he was, no idea where she lived. He stopped, gasping for breath. "Élise!" he called again, slowly going around in a circle. "Élise!"

"Arno?" a voice called. Arno spun around in the direction, and there she was, standing in the street bathed in the light of the stars and moon. A look of concern was on her face, her gloved hands tangled together. "Arno, what's wrong?"

Arno felt his bottom lip tremble, he took one slow step then another before he out right ran to her, barreling into her. He clung to her sobbing. "Élise… Élise… Élise…" Arno muttered, sniffling, he snuggled closer to her when she began to awkwardly stroke his hair.

"Arno what's wrong?" Élise asked.

"Élise… what's the matter?" Julie asked.

"Is that the Dorian boy?" François glanced at the boy in his daughter's arms. "What's he doing out here? I thought his father took him home."

Arno pulled away and stared at Élise's parents. "My papa… he… someone… a-attack him… he's hurt… I… I… I'm scared…" Arno sobbed. Élise's parents' eyes grew wide.

"Julie, take the children home. I'll go see what's going on down at the Dorian estate."

"Be careful François," Julie said, as her husband trotted down the street. "Come you two, let's get you out of this cold." She placed her hand on each of the children's small backs and lead them down the street.

* * *

Arno sniffed, sitting on the couch in the warm de la Serre estate. Élise was next to him, staring at him in a worried fashion. In his left hand he clutched his father's watch and in his right he clutched her hand in a death-trip. Every now and then he would tremble, a small whimper escaping his lips. The events of the past hour seem unreal, he kept expecting his father to say something to break the abnormality, it never came though and the reality kept bearing down on Arno's small shoulders.

A shadow fell over him and Élise, causing Arno to look up. Julie de la Serre gave Arno a kind smile before kneeling down, hands folding on his small knees. "Arno, are you alright? Do you want some hot chocolate to warm up?"

"I want hot chocolate, Mama!" Élise piped, only to shrink back when her mother gave her a look.

"Arno, what about you?" Julie asked. "Do you want hot chocolate with Élise?" Arno looked at the woman, his eyes wide and wet with tears. He nodded. "Alright, I'll go inform Zoé." Julie said, standing up. She placed a hand on Élise's head before leaving the room. Arno sniffed and glanced at Élise, then at his shoes.

"It's going to be okay, Arno," Élise said. "My father is a really good swordsman. He'll chase the scary stranger away and get your father help."

Arno squeezed her hand, hoping she was right but not trusting himself to voice it. Arno blinked, trying to force back the tears. He never saw his father bleed like that before. There was so much blood, and the stranger had such a cold cruel look in his eyes, which countered Charles' look of utter fear, when the strange leveled his gun at Arno.

Arno shook, remembering staring down the barrel of that gun. He was sure the stranger was going to kill him, but then his father deflected the stranger's attack, the gun's bullet going into the sky. The crack of the gunshot reminded Arno of thunder.

A loud crash sounded somewhere downstairs, causing Arno to jump, a squeak escaping his throat. "Arno?" Élise asked, looking at him. He glanced at her, face milk-white. "It's okay, it was just one of the maids dropping something. Nothing to be afraid of."

Arno let out a little whimper before curling towards her, wrapping his left arm around her. He sniffed, tying to hold back the tears, his body trembling. He felt Élise hesitate for half a heartbeat before she patted his head, wrapping her right arm around his shoulders. "I'm scared…" he finally forced out.

"Shh," she whispered, "it's going to be okay. You'll see. Mama will make sure nothing bad happens to us." She began to stroke his hair. "Mama is really good with the sword too. She's teaching me how to use it. I have my own sword, Arno! Wanna see it?"

"No."

"Are you sure? Its small, but the blade is real and it can cut!"

"I said no, Élise!" Arno snapped and tried to pull away but Élise held him tightly.

"I'm sorry Arno," Élise whispered, "it's okay, we don't have to see my sword." She stopped stroking his hair. "Maybe… when we know your father is alright we can go see it?"

Arno let out a loud sigh. "Don't stop," he whispered.

"Stop what?"

"What… what you were doing… it felt nice?"

Élise began to stroke his hair again, running her tiny fingers through his hair. "You mean this?"

"Yeah," Arno mumbled, "it feels nice." They lapsed into a comfortable silence. "He was scary Élise," Arno finally said.

"Who?"

"The bad man that hurt my papa…. He was scary, with a scar over his eye… he hurt my papa!"

Élise shushed him. "He's not coming here Arno, and besides I told you, Mama will make sure nothing bad happens to us, and I'm pretty sure my papa will kill him for hurting your papa."

"But…"

"I have hot chocolate children," Julie said, coming into the room, a maid carrying a silver tea set on a silver platter in tow. She smiled at the sight of the two children cuddling. Arno glanced at her but didn't move from his position.

"Mama, is Papa back yet?" Élise asked.

"No, not yet," Julie looked at Arno. "Arno, I have hot chocolate. Do you want some?"

"Yes, please," Arno said, pulling away from Élise. He sniffed, setting his watch in his lap as he accepted the cup from Julie. The warm cup heated his hands and he stared into the pale brown liquid. It smelled of warm milk and cocoa, cinnamon and honey. He took a sip, savoring the taste of milk, chocolate, cinnamon, and honey on his tongue. He took another, feeling the hot chocolate warming him from the inside out. Another sip and before he stopped staring into his cup.

He'd have hot chocolate with his father on cold days. A servant would bring the platter with the pitcher full of hot chocolate and pour two cups before leaving. Arno liked it because it was just him and his father, and he got to hear stories. Now his father was hurt and possibly dead and he'd never get to sit by the fire with his father again, drinking hot chocolate. His father left him, just like his mother did.

The half-drunk cup tumbled from his numb fingers, falling to the ground and spilling hot chocolate all over the rug. Arno buried his face in his hands as he sobbed, unable to hold back his tears. His small shoulders trembled, his entire body trembling with the effort of getting all the tears out.

"Arno?" Élise whispered, surprised. He didn't hear her or feel her concern hand on his shoulder. He wasn't even aware of a servant coming to fetch Julie away. "Arno, it's going to be okay."

"Pa-pa… Wa-ant… Pa-pa!" Arno sobbed, his words a bit muffled by his hands. He sniffed, more tears coming, and he became vaguely aware of Élise's arms around him, her cheek against his head as she stroked his hair.

"Shh, shh," Élise cooed before singing, " _Alouette, gentille alouette._ _Alouette, je te plumerai!_ "

Arno's sobs slowed as he forced himself to listen to Élise's soft voice sing the familiar children's song. He cuddled towards her, exhaustion and Élise's soft voice lulling him, until he gave up and fell asleep in her arms.

* * *

Arno awoke the next day in a bed. The bed was soft and he was warm and someone was next to him, a hand was playing with his hair just the way he liked it. _Élise…_ he thought, recalling her voice and how she tried to comfort him.

"Arno," a familiar voice said. Arno made a little moan of protest, snuggling closer to the source of the warmth. A sharp hiss came and Arno opened his eyes at the sound. He couldn't believe it! His father was lying in bed, looking pale and tired, his dark hair loose and fanning out over the white pillow; but he was alive, so very much alive.

"Papa?" Arno whispered, not daring to believe it. He pinched himself just to make sure, jumping a bit when he felt pain. Charles chuckled. "Papa… are… "

"I'm alright," Charles said, "just hurt. Luckily, my opponent didn't cut my very deep and—" Arno flung himself around his father's neck, hugging him tightly as he wailed.

"I was so scared, Papa! I was so scared! Don't leave me Papa! Please, don't ever leave me, Papa! Papa! Papa! Don't leave me, please!" Arno sobbed, tears rolling down his cheeks. His body trembled, and his father tried to sooth him, his hand rubbing Arno's back.

"Shh, shh, Arno, shh. I'll never leave you, I promise. Shhh, Arno, be still son, be still. It's alright. I'm fine, I'm not going anywhere," Charles assured him.

"I love you, Papa! Please don't go! Don't leave me like Mama did! Don't go away! I'll be good, Papa! Just don't leave!"

"I love you too, Arno. I'm not going anywhere, be still Arno, be still. I'm here, I'm here," Charles said, hugging his son. Arno sniffed softly, snuggling closer to his father, taking comforting in his father's embrace. Arno pulled away after a bit to look at his father.

"Are… Are you going to be okay, Papa?" Arno asked, his voice soft. Charles nodded, a smile on his face.

"I will be, I have to stay in bed for a few days, but I'll get better," Charles said.

"Good." Arno gave a small nod, he sat up and rubbed the side of his nose. "Papa… c-can I ask you a question?"

"Of course Arno."

"Élise… Élise said her papa is a Templar… and that you're an A-Assassin," he bowed his head, "she said that I'll grow up to be an Assassin too. I'll be her enemy." Arno gave his father an earnest look. "I don't wanna be her enemy. I like her…"

Charles sighed, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. Arno pouted a little, unsure why his father was laughing. "Arno," he stopped, there was no way he could tell the boy to forget about everything.

"Yes, Papa?" Arno asked, staring at his father. He feared his father would say he couldn't play with Élise anymore, and the mere thought of being unable to play with Élise terrified him, made him go all cold inside, just like the thought of losing his father did.

"You and Élise can still be friends," Charles said, "you don't have to be enemies. Just because you and Élise are on opposite sides doesn't mean you can't be friends."

"But Uncle Pierre said I can't play with her!" Arno said, earnest, "He said that Assassins and Templars don't play together." Arno pouted, before he declaring, "I don't want to be an Assassin if I can't play with Élise!"

"Uncle Pierre doesn't understand the concept of _unity_ , Arno," Charles said, putting a hand on his son's head. "You do."

"I do?"

"Mmhmm," Charles nodded, "you can be an Assassin _and_ still be Élise's friend."

"You're an Assassin," Arno said, watching his father nod, "and I'll grow up to be an Assassin," again his father nodded, "and Élise said she'll grow up to be a Templar like her papa. D-Do… Do you think she'll still want to play with me?"

"I don't know, Arno," Charles said, a small smirk spreading across his lips. "You should ask her yourself."

The door opened and Élise poked her head in. "Arno?" she asked softly. Arno turned at the sound of his name, breath catching in his throat, a smile blossoming on his lips.

"Élise!" he cried, glancing briefly at his father for his approving nod, before slipping off the bed and running to her. He hugged her tightly. "Élise, I… I have a question," he said, taking a step back and holding her hands.

* * *

"Élise, I… I have a question," Arno said. His chest felt tight, it felt so similar to that day, thirteen years ago. So much time had passed between then and now. He knelt down on one knee, staring up into her blue-green eyes, the moonlight paling her flame red curls. He had practiced for the last month how he was going to say it. Getting the maids to stand in for her so he could get the lines down, but now… on the night they both become full fledged members of their respective orders, he's tongue tied and the hidden blade on his left wrist feels so heavy.

"Yes, Arno?" Élise prompted. She's no longer the eight-year-old girl that teased him in their games, she was a young woman now on the cups of her life as a Templar, the mirror to his own life, on the cups of his journey as an assassin. He remembers asking his father once, if he could still be friends with Élise even though they were on opposite sides on this age old conflict.

Arno let out a deep sigh, flicked his eyes to the ground and squeezed his eyes shut, the rehearsed lines appearing in his mind. "Élise de la Serre," he began, looking up at her, "we have known each other for thirteen years. We have done more for the cause of peace between Templars and Assassins than anyone before us ever dared to attempt. You and I have been… friends our entire lives," he stopped, his chest feeling tight as a myriad of emotions tumbled about, all wanting to get loose.

"Arno get on with it," Élise said, "what do you want? And do get up off the ground, you're looking ridiculous."

"I love you," he said, earnest. "I love you with all my heart, my soul, every fiber of my entire being," he swallowed dropping on of her left hand to pull out the ring he had bought earlier, "I…" he stopped unsure if he could continue. "I… I would be honored if… if you consent to be m-m-my wife." He slipped the simple diamond ring onto her finger, holding her gaze.

He watched as countless emotions flitted across her face; her hand going to her mouth to cover her soft gasp. He held her left hand in both of his. He rubbed his nose, wincing when he put too much pressure on the tender break. Élise said something but he wasn't paying attention. "Pardon?" he asked.

"Get up Arno," Élise said, her voice clipped. Arno sighed, steeling himself for her rejection. She had remained silent long enough that he _knew_ she would reject him. He had seen other men propose and their loves had given them ready answers.

 _Keep it together Arno, she hasn't said no or yes yet. Just… keep it together._ "Élise, I—" Arno fell silent as she pressed a finger to his lips.

"My answer is the same one it was all those years ago," Élise said, a smile tugging at her lips. Arno felt his eyes grow wide, a wide grin spreading across his lips. Élise slipped her arms around his neck and she kissed him, long and sweet, his hands dropped to her waist, pulling her close to him. She pulled back just enough to utter, "yes."

**Author's Note:**

> Assassin's Creed (c) Ubisoft
> 
> Save an author; leave a review


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